


Underneath it All

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cas is not shy, Castiel deserves nice things, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Fluff, Geek Dean Winchester, Goth Castiel (Supernatural), Humor, Librarian Dean Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel, Smut, Student Dean Winchester, Tattoos, Tooth Rotting Fluff, angst-but only if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 06:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17802842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: When Dean’s best friend Charlie suggests that he take a course on fiction at the local college, he decides to give it a try. Thinking it could be beneficial for his job at the library and also give him the inspiration he needs to continue writing, Dean signs up for Professor Novak’s Science Fiction and Fantasy class. What he wasn't expecting was for the professor to be a fantasy himself. All sex hair, black liner, and tattooed in poetry, Dean is lucky he can swallow in his teacher’s presence, let alone speak sanely and intelligently. He may be the oldest student in the class, but Professor Novak merely has to look at Dean with those deep blue eyes lined in black kohl to turn him into a stuttering teenager with a crush.Luckily for Dean, Professor Novak doesn't seem to mind at all.





	Underneath it All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyHawke72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHawke72/gifts).



> This work is for Shelby, who was kind enough to bid on me for the ficfacer$ charity auction for Random Acts.
> 
> Thanks to Julia Houston for all of her hard work putting the whole thing together! It was a blast.
> 
> Thank you, to my teapot/parabatai Bek, who test drove this story for me. Love you to death, girl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-January**

 

Dean crossed his leg, ankle resting on his knee as he tapped at the worn fabric of his jeans with his pen. A blue spiral bound notebook sat in his lap along with a slip of paper that read: _Engl 2360 Science Fiction and Fantasy with Professor Castiel Novak_ printed on it.  Dean hoped to hell he wasn’t an asshole.

 

Dean shivered in his seat and refused to believe it was from nervousness, but instead, the coolness of the lecture hall. It was entirely reminiscent of High School where they kept the temp down just low enough to make it too uncomfortable for him to fall asleep.

 

Not that he wanted to nap. No, despite his apprehension at being a thirty-nine-year-old amongst fresh-faced graduates, Dean was looking forward to this.  It was an entirely different feeling when one was going to class out of pure interest rather than a requirement.

 

You see, Dean Winchester had a passion for books. Most people would be surprised to know that. They looked at Dean and saw a tough, street-smart kid who grew up way too fast, taking care of his little brother Sammy because his widowed father was often too drunk to do so.

 

They didn’t know how works of fiction helped him pass the time waiting in his car to pick up Sam from his extracurricular activities after school. How they made the hours at the laundromat bearable as he sat in the warm heat, sucking down root beer and snacking on cheap 7/11 corn chips while turning the pages of _The Chronicles of Narnia._  People didn’t see how it was books that helped him escape when his father was on a bender or got a little too physical with the son who reminded him so much of his late wife.

 

Dean had a secret desire to be an author, something that for a long time, he’d only admitted to himself and his younger brother Sammy. His little brother had often been the recipient of gory and fantastical tales of shapeshifters and wendigos, of seelies and vampires and mermaids. Tales told over macaroni and cheese and hotdogs or the last bowl of Lucky Charms. More often, over the sound of John Winchester’s drunken ramblings. Sam had been his first supportive and loving audience. Stories about two brothers fighting demons and spirits in ways that he was too young and powerless to fight for his father.

 

Now his brilliant little brother was a giant moose of a man, a hot-shot environmental lawyer who won over juries with the same puppy dog eyes that had always netted him the toy at the bottom of the cereal box or first choice at what tv show they watched before bed. Thanks to a full-ride at Stanford University- _ask Dean how proud he was of that and try and get him to shut up about it_ -the nest egg Dean had saved for Sam's schooling working nights at the Roadhouse diner and weekends at Singer Salvage had been enough to put a substantial dent in the mortgage on his parent’s house. His father, now with five years of sobriety under his belt and a lovely new wife named Kate, hadn’t even dared to argue about signing the deed over to him considering Dean had been paying the bulk of the monthly payments since he was old enough to work. After, it took Dean about three more years of working doubles to save up enough to pay off the whole thing. Being able to let one of his jobs go, and switching to a nine to five schedule at the auto shop, had opened up his social life. He’d finally been able to participate in things with his friends, go places he’d always wanted to visit. It had been like being eighteen at twenty-five and Dean had felt like he was really breathing for the first time since his mom died.

Eventually, Dean had decided to go to school and pursue a career that, although didn’t pay a ton, was enough to live off-especially without a mortgage payment. It allowed him to focus on what he had always wanted to do, and that was to write. Dean had successfully completed his online degree at thirty-three years old and acquired his Masters in Library Sciences. Dean, having been a frequent inhabitant over the years to the town library in Angel Falls, Maine, had been an easy hire when library assistant Mildred Baker had retired. Bobby Singer, his boss at the shop and honorary uncle, had been sad to see him go but happy that the man who had become very much a son to him was finally doing something for himself, though Dean made sure to still help out on the weekends whenever he was needed and available.

 

Dean had been working at the library for the past five years, and he loved it. It was comfortable, warm, and quiet. He enjoyed reading to the children during story hour and he loved being surrounded by books written by the authors who inspired him. But despite the atmosphere being conducive to what he wanted to do, so far all he had to show for it was notebooks full of short and half-finished stories and emo- _his best friend Charlie’s words_ \- poetry.

 

Charlie Bradbury was a feisty red-headed firecracker who had barged into his life and reminded him what it was like to have friends beyond his family. She taught him how to have fun. They met when she popped into the Angel Falls, Library with hopes of leaving flyers for a LARPing event for the popular fantasy game Moondoor. A mutual love of the fantasy genre had led to dozens of coffee dates-platonic as she only had eyes for the ladies-  online gaming, and a brief stint as a handmaiden to the Queen at the last battle of moons. She was the first and only person aside from Sammy that knew of Dean’s aspirations to be a novelist, the first since his brother to actually read any of his work.

 

Charlie worked at MCU- _Mark Cain University_ -teaching Graphic Design & Media Arts and it had actually been her suggestion for Dean to take a few classes.

 

_“What could it hurt? You’re good Dean, seriously. Maybe taking a few classes will inspire you enough to finish that damn series.  I need to know what’s going to happen with Devon and Sean. You get me sucked in, then nothing. You’re like the boy who cried fiction.” Charlie teased.  Dean knew she wasn’t wrong._ “ _Seriously. You should check out some of Professor Novak’s classes. I took his LGBTQ in Literature course for fun last summer and it was phenomenal. Plus, he’s dreamy. You know it’s true if I’m saying it.”_

 

There had been a mischievous sparkle in her bright eyes when she had said it and he had promised her he would think about it over the summer.

 

Charlie had warned him to sign up soon before classes filled up, but he didn't listen and was rewarded with a smug _I told you so_. He’d missed the fall semester easily and had to sign up for the spring session instead.

 

Dean felt a bit of anxiety kick up as the lecture hall began to fill up, kicking himself for choosing a spot right in the front row. He stuck out like a sore thumb; dressed in comfortable jeans worn thin and a black tee-shirt, finished off with an open red and black plaid button down. He was a lumberjack amongst a slew of _Gap_ and _Abercrombie & Fitch _ teeny boppers. He groaned out loud when he saw a sable-haired girl walk in with a _Fifty-Shades of Grey_ travel mug and sat three-seats away.

 

Dean’s attention was drawn to the back when the door to the lecture hall closed, signaling that class was about to begin. He quickly turned face-forward, hearing the footfalls of who he assumed was the professor walking up the aisle to the desk in front stationed by a podium and projector. The hum in the air was palpable and Charlie’s mischievous sparkle was brought to mind again when Dean’s eyes landed on the man coming to stand before the class, almost directly in front of him.

 

“Good afternoon, class,” a voice like liquid smoke and peat fires rolled out of the mouth what had to be the most stunning man Dean had ever seen in person before. Deliciously pink lips, chapped and wide, curled up in a half smile as he surveyed the room. Impossibly blue eyes lined in black lit on Dean for a split second and at that moment he forgot to breathe as they seemed to zero right in on his soul. _Dramatic much?_ Dean scoffed to himself, even as his mouth ran dry.

 

“Good afternoon,” the class echoed back, all except for Dean who was too busy soaking in the vision in front of him, clad in torn black jeans and a _Ramones_ tee-shirt. The man’s dark hair was artfully tousled in a way that screamed afternoon delight and Dean felt a fleeting spark of irrational jealousy for the faceless person responsible for his sinful appearance. Not only was he sporting black combat boots and intricately braided leather bracelets, but his swoon-worthy- _yes, he actually thought the word swoon_ \- forearms and biceps were littered in black calligraphy. Dean had to pull back when he caught himself leaning in for a closer look. A playful smirk shot his way proved that the professor was not oblivious to Dean’s embarrassing creeper-ness and he slouched in his seat, a flush of heat climbing his face.

 

“Welcome to Science Fiction and Fantasy in Literature.  I’m Professor Castiel Novak,” he said, propping a hip onto his desk, the jut of the sharp bone visible even through the thin layer of the tee-shirt. “When I call your name, please raise your hand.”

 

Dean listened to the gravel-laced voice in a daze as names were called out in alphabetical order;

“ Alicia Banes... Pamela Barnes... Aaron Bass... Dorothy Baum ...”

 

_Holy fuck, look at his fingers._ Dean bit back a sigh as nails painted the color of rich Sangria followed along on a sheet of paper.

 

_“_ Erica Cartwright... Lydia Crawford... Fergus Crowley... Fiona Duncan... _”_

 

_Jesus Christ, his thighs…_ thickly muscled legs taunted him as Professor Novak shifted to standing, bracing a palm on the surface of the desk as he crossed one ankle over the other.

 

“Annie Hawkins... Gwen Hernandez... Sparrow Jennings... Samantha Juarez...”

 

_Is that a fucking tongue ring?_ Dean swallowed harshly at the flash of a silver barbell in Professor Novak’s tongue as he caught the muscle between his teeth and scanned the room. It had been a long time since a man had turned Dean's head in the way this one had.

 

Dean had known he was bisexual since he was fifteen, but he rarely dated men. Not because of any internalized homophobia shit like that. His dad may have been a drunk, but the former Marine could not have cared less who his son shared his bed with so long as he still had a room at the inn. No, Dean hadn’t dated a guy since his early twenties, and the main reason was that all of his swagger, his _smoothness,_ flew right out the window when it came to attractive men.

 

“ Paula Cowtan Lambert... Bek Nicholson... Angie Noland...  Caryn Riehm... Rebecca Rosen... Hannah Wilder... Dean Winchester...”

 

He didn’t know why.

 

_“_ Dean Winchester?"

 

Maybe because he knew how men thought and thus knew his usual charm wouldn’t work, which in turn turned him into a complete-

 

_“DEAN WINCHESTER?”_ the agitated rumble of Professor Novak’s voice startled Dean out of his musings.

 

“Sonovabitch,” he murmured to himself before raising his hand, meeting a steady azure gaze from under a dark arched brow.

 

“Sorry to wake you,” Professor Novak said with a long look that had Dean stumbling.

 

“No, sir, I wasn’t-”

 

Professor Novak carried on as though he hadn't even spoken.

 

“This course will focus on a wide range of fantasy and science fiction works from _Middle Earth_ to _Edom._ You will be exposed to a variety of films, art, poetry, short stories, screenplays, novellas, graphic novels, and will prepare essays and participate in class discussions,” Professor Novak raised a brow at Dean. “You might want to write this down,” and Dean felt the heat of a blush as some of the students tittered with laughter, all furiously writing down notes.

 

How the fuck was he supposed to take notes when his teacher had him too flustered to even reply to his own name being called? One thing was for sure. Charlie Bradbury was a menace and he would make her pay.

 

Somehow, Dean managed to listen as Professor Novak outlined the course and assigned them the first five chapters of _Magician: Apprentice_ by _Raymond E. Feist._ When class was dismissed, Dean reluctantly stayed behind to attempt and apologize for his initial distraction in class. Dean looked up as the students started trickling out the door, a few of them lingering as though hoping for some attention from the professor, but no dice.

 

“Mr. Winchester,” Professor Novak nearly growled, not looking up from his papers, “is there something I can help you with?”

 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, I, uh, I just want-wanted to say-” Dean hated this; it was either stuttering or verbal diarrhea and he wasn’t sure which was worse.

 

“Yes,” Professor Novak was studying him now, head cocked like an inquisitive bird, brow arched in a way that only made him trip over his words more. What the fuck was he supposed to say? _I’m sorry I couldn’t pay attention, it’s just that you look like a walking orgasm and I could come from the sound of your voice?_

 

“I’m sorry if I seemed distracted-” Dean was cut off as the side door to the lecture hall opened and he and the professor both looked up. Dean’s breath caught as he saw black-lined eyes warm as a full smile bloomed across his teacher’s face. Now, there was a sight to behold.

 

“Hey there, Cas!” Sang Charlie’s bright voice.

 

“Hello, Charlie, what can I do for you?” Professor Novak asked as Dean glared at Charlie in betrayal.

 

“Actually, I’m here for this one,” she said, gesturing towards Dean. “How was the first class?” she asked with a wink.

 

Dean jabbed a finger at her in the air. “You’re dead to me,” He said dramatically,  before turning to the man who’d spent the last ninety minutes turning him into a discombobulated mess. “See you next week, Professor,” he said, gathering his notebook, cell phone, and pen and walking towards the door.

 

“Aw, Deanie-weenie,” he heard Charlie pouting after him.

 

“Nope,” he replied without looking back, going through the door quickly.  There were a handful of other students milling about, moving onto to their next class.  Dean, having nothing to do aside from quenching his thirst with a bottle of water from the vending machine, dropped his stuff on a padded bench against the wall and dug in his pocket for his wallet. Charlie caught up with him, as he suspected she would.

 

“You’re a piece of work,” he muttered as he smoothed out his dollar against the curved edge of the machine.

 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, handmaiden,” Charlie teased.

 

Dean plugged in two quarters and punched C-7, watching as an _Aquafina_ bottle shot onto the conveyor and lifted with a hum.

 

“Like you don’t know. _Professor Novak’s amazing. Take his class, you won’t regret it_. Pfft,” Dean scoffed, twisting the clear cap off of his drink and taking a long pull.

 

“Dean, I have taken Cas’ class, there is no way you didn’t find it interesting.”

 

“Interesting isn’t the problem, Charles. It’s the fact that you send me to the one class where the professor is the epitome of my teenage wet dreams. Are you fucking kidding me? How the fuck am I supposed to pay attention when all I want to do is climb him like a tree?”

 

“As tempting as that visual is,” came a deep velvet voice, “we’ll have to revisit that scenario when the semester is over.”

 

Dean didn’t even look up, and just proceeded to lightly bang his forehead against the front of the vending machine murmuring “Yes, sir,” though he doubted the professor heard him over Charlie’s raucous laughter.

 

“Have a lovely evening, Charlie. See you in class, Dean,” Professor Novak said, voice laced with amusement. Dean forced himself to meet the man’s gaze and was almost sure he saw a spark of interest alongside the laughter before he continued down the corridor.

 

It was going to be a long term.

 

**-February**

Castiel tugged his trench tighter around himself as he sat on one of the benches across from the North Building. He popped the plastic tab on his _Black Cat Coffee_ and placed it next to him so he could open up his take-out bag holding his chocolate croissant.  He took a large bite, enjoying the warm flakiness and burst of cocoa flavor on his tongue which he washed down with a scalding sip of undoctored coffee. Cas leaned back against the bench, letting the cold wood seep into the material of the coat, enjoying the shiver as he waited for what had quickly become one of his favorite sights.

 

Dean Winchester.

 

Students and faculty alike walked briskly to and from the science building and Grace Hall. Others hurried to the library and arts center to get out of the cold, but Castiel relished in the crisp February air as the current star of all of his filthy fantasies came into view, striding onto the campus on jean-clad bowed legs that Cas envisioned spread open before him.

 

Cas fiddled with his tongue ring, the metal clacking against his teeth as he cocked his head to better survey the fine specimen before him. As per usual, Dean gave him a little salute the closer he came to Cas’ bench. Like always, Dean’s cheeks were tinged pink, and though some might assume it was from the cold, Castiel knew it was not. No, it seemed that Dean could rarely meet Cas’ gaze without a delicious blush highlighting his gorgeous cheekbones.  Dean had a similar reaction to praise when his responses in class inspired it. The results of that often had Castiel jerking off late at night, stretched out on his bed or under the spray of the hot shower. The image of coming on that heated face as he grunted out the words _good boy_ was now a daily theme.

 

Of course, he couldn’t indulge in that fantasy, not yet.  Castiel had never dated one of his students before, and although it wasn’t a written rule, he still considered it inappropriate; mainly because the majority of them were young enough to be his own children. But Dean, he was a temptation Castiel had not foreseen.  Dean was certainly no barely legal coed. At first, he had found it hard to reconcile the shy, quiet man in his class who stumbled and blushed when Castiel spoke to him directly with the same Dean that Charlie had regaled him with stories about. _Dean_ , she had said, _is my best wingman_.  According to her, he could belt out a version of _Whipping_ _Post_ that had a crowd screaming, would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it, and could bake a homemade cherry pie that could make you weep. All things Charlie had tried to lure Castiel in with when insisting he just had to let her set him up with her best friend. Every time he had said no.

 

_Why the fuck had he said no?_

 

Cas seemed to attract a certain type of people. He believed his style most definitely contributed to that. People tended to be superficial without even realizing.  Castiel, with his eyeliner and unkempt hair, his tattoos, and tongue ring and dark clothing, always garnered attention, whether it be from those with the frat-boy promiscuous mentality to the ones who assumed he was a devil worshiper and relished the idea of dating someone quote-unquote ‘ dangerous'.  No one ever looked underneath it all. No one suspected he was a soft soul who actually preferred the boy next door, someone who loved their family and friends, someone he could have a million conversations with and never get bored.  It was rare to find a person like that willing to look beyond the exterior and see him as more than a hot piece of ass in someone’s bad boy fantasy.

 

It was true that his initial foray into his darker style was borne out of rebellion and a way to be seen. Castiel was one of four children.  His mother Hannah had been a nurse, and she had died in a car accident when he was six. His Dad Chuck, though he absolutely loved his children, was fairly absent during his childhood. His grandmother Naomi told him it was because they reminded his father so much of his mother that it sometimes just hurt too much. In pictures, Castiel's mother always looked so soft and beautiful. Sundresses and fuzzy white sweaters, fresh and bare-faced. In a subconscious effort, Castiel had gone in the opposite direction, and it took him a long time to recognize that his attempts to be the dark to his mom’s light was bred of a desire to make it easier for him and his father to have some kind of relationship. The truth was, they had come a long way since his childhood, and though they will probably never be extremely close, Castiel and Chuck understood each other.  

 

Castiel glanced down at his hand wrapped around his cup and noticed the chip in his crimson polish and tsked. That’s what he got for buying _Wet and Wild_ brand. His eyes skated Dean’s way again and imagined his dark nails skimming over his pale, freckled skin. Castiel felt nearly obsessed, but he was so drawn to the stunning man with his soft smiles and intelligent ideas. The Dean who sat in his classroom every week seemed to be the antithesis of that extroverted man Charlie described, and it just made him even more arresting. Though quiet, his commentary in class was always thought-provoking and his work well researched. He had a sense of humor that Castiel appreciated and an infectious laugh that had turned more than one classmate’s head. In a nutshell, he was the epitome of what Castiel had been looking for. A lot of times, unless it was one of those thrill-seeker types, people were too intimidated to try and get to know Castiel beyond his appearance, and he was actually okay with that. It helped weed out the ones who were not worth his time or effort. Cas was betting on Dean being worth the effort. He knew the man was attracted to him, it had been made clear when he’d overheard Dean speaking with Charlie after that first class. But unlike others who had vocalized an enthusiastic desire to know him carnally, Dean remained sweet, shy, and respectful, even as his eyes appeared to drink Castiel in with something that looked perilously close to need.

 

Castiel straightened up on the bench as Dean drew closer, surprised when two boot-clad feet stopped in front of him. Cas smiled at Dean warmly as the man stood before him, absently rubbing at the back of his neck; a nervous gesture Castiel found endlessly endearing. Dean appeared to be gearing up to say something as his moss-green eyes danced across Cas’ features, finally just shaking his head as his hands reached into the pocket of his scarred leather jacket.

 

“Here,” Dean said, voice deep and somehow bashful at the same time. Castiel looked down at the hand thrust in front of him, thick fingers dotted with freckles and clutched around black material. Castiel opened his own palm and Dean placed what he came to see was black fingerless gloves.

 

“You’re, uh, always sitting out here before class and this weather can be no joke. You should take care of yourself,” Dean said, giving Castiel a glimpse of the man that Charlie said looked after her for three days while she was laid up with the flu. “I figured these would work and you could still show off your nail polish,” he finished with a grin that had Castiel’s nose scrunching for how wide he was now smiling.

 

“Thank you, Dean. This is the nicest Valentine's Day gift I have ever received.”

 

“What? No, no that’s not why-” Dean stopped when Castiel let out a low chuckle.

 

“I’m just teasing, Dean,” Castiel said and Dean rolled his eyes, before leveling him with an unimpressed glare.

 

“Sure, because I haven’t been embarrassed in front of you enough yet,” Dean said sarcastically, but without heat.

 

“Oh, come on, you’ve been incredibly smooth,” Castiel said, voiced laced with amusement and Dean nodded.

 

“As chunky peanut-butter,” he supplied and Cas’ head fell back as he let out a raspy bark of laughter, gratified when he saw Dean’s eyes glint like a forest in sunlight.

 

“Hello, Professor Novak,” came a silky voice, and Castiel turned to see Professor Meghan Masters make her way towards them. Meg was head of the Theology department. She was beautiful and smart and her brown eyes raked over him with a mischievousness that he found amusing.  She’d also been his best friend since they were fourteen years old when she knocked out Zachariah Adler for spray painting cock-sucking freak on his locker in High School.

“Meg,” he said with a nod, frowning when he noticed that Dean had started to walk away, earnest face now a blank mask.

 

“Dean,” Cas said, halting the man’s stride, “thanks again,” Castiel said sincerely, holding up the gloves.

 

He noted as Dean glanced at Meg for a second, and nodded thoughtfully. “See you in there,” he said with a nod to the door and Cas was disappointed to hear his tone was all business now.

 

Meg let out a sultry little chuckle as he watched Dean stride into the building. “Looks like your favorite student might be a little jealous,” she teased, but Cas just shook his head.

 

He hadn’t seemed jealous to Cas. Instead, he’d seemed sadly resigned and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Dean to expect disappointment like that, and how he could go about fixing it without crossing boundaries he was not able to cross just yet.

 

**-March**

“The Thorn and the Blossom,” Cas clapped his hands together as he leaned against his desk and Dean’s eyes immediately followed the motion, the flash of electric blue polish distracting. “What did we think?”

 

“Tragic,” came a reply from the back.

 

“Unique,” came another from the front.

 

“So romantic, you just know that Evelyn is truly Brendan’s bae,” said a girl to Dean’s right- _Becky_ he thought her name was, and he couldn’t help it; he snorted.

 

“You disagree, Dean?” Castiel asked and Dean looked up at him, willing himself not to stutter at the intensity of those deep blue kohl-lined eyes.

 

“That it’s romantic, or the use of the word bae?” he asked dryly provoking an indignant snort from a few of his classmates.

 

“Do you not know that term because you're ancient?” Becky snarked as though he should feel ashamed for not knowing the slang of today’s youth.

 

“Oh, I know the term. In case _you_ were wondering, it actually means poop in Danish, but whatever gives you the warm and fuzzies,” Dean replied, earning himself a few chuckles from the crowd. “But I was actually referring to the romance. I found it unfinished,” he said.

 

“Well, duh. It was supposed to be open-ended.”

 

Dean shifted in his seat to face the little blonde who found him so affronting.  

 

“The whole story is based on this premise that Evelyn and Brendan are somehow the embodiment of this fairy-tale couple meant to come together after a thousand-year curse, right? Only we never really know starting from when. Then there’s the heroine, who I honestly found kind of wishy-washy. She constantly runs from her fate instead of just being honest and I’m somehow supposed to feel bad for her when it’s a situation she created for herself? “

 

“But where is the drama without all of the mystery and miscommunication?” Castiel countered and Dean wondered if he truly felt that way or was just playing devil’s advocate.

 

“I’m all for drama when it’s warranted, but this felt gratuitous like it had no real purpose in the plot if only for the sole purpose of drama for drama’s sake, which is annoying and predictable.”

 

“Well, I find you annoying,” Becky pouted, scowling and Castiel looked at her sharply.

 

“Ms. Rosen, we are all entitled to our opinions, let’s not resort to insults,” Castiel said and Dean smiled softly at the defense, though it was unnecessary.

 

“Look, it’s cool, I get it,” Dean said, turning towards the girl. “I’m defensive of my favorite characters too. Sometimes things speak to you differently than others.  Our life experiences change the way we view things. You'll learn that when you become ancient like me, " Dean said with a wink and what he considered his most charming smile.”

 

His response seemed to blow the wind out of her sails. “I’m sorry I called you annoying,” she said sheepishly and Dean laughed.

 

“I’ve been called worse,” he said good-naturedly and wondered about the frown that crossed Castiel’s face at his words.

Class finished without incident and Dean even had time to meet Charlie at the campus cafe for lunch before she had to teach her afternoon class where she teased him a little about his crush. When he made his way out to the parking lot, Dean was surprised to hear a familiar voice cursing up a blue-streak.

 

“Fucking piece of shit.  Are you fucking _kidding_ me right now?”

 

Dean smothered a laugh with a cough as he watched his professor kick the door of his truck with his black Doc Martens.  It was an old brown and tan Ford truck. An 87’ if he wasn’t mistaken.

 

“Uh, everything okay over here, Professor?” Dean asked, trying to school the humor out of his voice only to have to choke back another laugh as Castiel whirled around at the sound of Dean’s voice, clearly startled. His cheeks were flushed in irritation, and his eyeliner was smudged. Castiel’s perpetually messy hair was more disheveled than usual and Dean imagined him tugging on the locks in frustration.

 

“Dean,” Cas started, “ I’m sorry. It’s just that I just had this heap of junk in the shop last week, and now it won’t start. Again,” Castiel growled.

 

Dean smiled at him sympathetically as he walked towards the truck, giving it a friendly pat. “Don’t worry, girl,” Dean said to the vehicle. “He didn’t mean it,” he glanced at Castiel who was looking at him with a half smile pulling at his lips and an expression that could only be construed as fond. “These cougars just need a little extra love sometimes, “ Dean said to him. “You mind if I take a look?”

 

“You know about cars?” Castiel asked with an arched brow.

 

“Oh yeah,” Dean said as Castiel handed him the keys, fingertips lightly brushing his palm. “I, uh, pretty much grew up in a shop. Singer Salvage across town? My Uncle Bobby’s place,” He said at Castiel’s nod. “ I worked there for years, before the library and I still help out a couple Saturdays a month.” Dean tried turning the engine, knowing exactly what the problem was when he was rewarded with only clicks. “I hate to tell you, man, but it sounds like your starter is gone.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes heavenward, head tilted back and Dean’s eyes were automatically drawn to Castiel’s Adam’s apple and he bit his bottom lip to keep from sighing.

 

“Fantastic. Do you know how much something like that is going to run me?” Castiel asked and Dean nodded.

 

“This is an 87’, right?”

“Yes.”

“The part itself will run you anywhere from one to two hundred depending on where you go, plus labor. But wait,” Dean tugged his phone out of his pocket, leaning back against the seat as he pulled the shop’s number up in his contacts. Castiel watched him, gaze steady and curious as he put the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey, Garth,” Dean said when the man answered. “Can you do me a favor? Can you check if we have any starters for a Ford F-150 in stock?”

 

_“I sure can. What year?”_

 

“87. I’m pretty sure we should have one from that 91’ we stripped a few months back.”

 

Dean heard the clicking of keys as Garth searched the system. _“You are right, Deano. We have a couple. One from the 91’ and 83’ that are both compatible with that make. Why, you need me to pull one?”_

 

“Yeah, please. The 91’ preferably.”

 

_“Got a new project or something?”_

 

“Just helping out a friend,” Dean said with a side look at Castiel who was still watching him with undisguised interest.  “Can you...hang on a second, Garth,” Dean said, and nodded at Castiel. “You think you can be without her for a day?”

 

“Yes, but I don’t expect you to-” Castiel started but Dean just waved him off.

 

“Do you need a ride home, or is your girlfriend here?”

 

“Girlfriend?” Castiel sounded confused.

 

“That other professor,” Dean said and was surprised when Castiel laughed heartily.

 

“Professor Masters is not my girlfriend,” he said, laughter in his voice. “We’re just friends.  And no, to answer your question, but don’t worry, I can call a cab.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the phone again.

 

“Garth? Sorry about that. Can you have Jack come out here to the university? East entrance, parking lot B. I need him to tow this truck back to my house. I’ll be by in the morning to pick up the part.”

 

_“No problem. It's a slow day, and it'll give him something to do, kids bored out of his noggin.”_

 

“Awesome, thanks buddy, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dean ended the call and climbed out of Castiel’s truck.

 

“Got a guy coming to take her in. I can have her fixed up for you by the end of the day, tomorrow. “

 

Castiel gave him a soft look that had Dean’s heart tripping. “Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

 

Dean shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 

“It’s no big deal. You’ll get out of it way cheaper this way, and I don’t mind working on it for you. Working on cars relaxes me. Thinking time, you know?”

 

“Well, I insist on paying you,” Castiel said firmly.

 

“Just give me fifty for the starter and we’re square. Honestly,” he said when the professor started to protest. “ I get everything at cost and a discount,” Dean reassured him.

 

Castiel sighed. “Thank you, Dean,” he said, finally giving in.

 

“No problem, man. Jack should be here in a few, and then I’ll take you home, or wherever you want to go.”

 

“No, Dean, you’re already doing enough for me,” Castiel insisted.

 

“It’s no big, deal, honestly. Where do you live?”

 

“The apartment complex on 5th? Pine Hollow?”

 

Dean smiled. “ I know where that is, my neighborhood is two streets over on Tanninger. You need to grab anything or are you good to go?” Dean asked, proud that he had been maintaining a conversation without stuttering. Or drooling. Progress.

 

Castiel lifted his briefcase and Dean felt warm when he noticed that Cas was wearing his gift. “This is all I have.”

 

“Well, I’m right here if you wanna get inside out of the cold. I’ll start’er up for you. Give me your keys and I’ll wait for Jack.”

 

“That’s very kind, Dean, but I’m not going to sit in the car while you wait out here,” he said as though it were silly of him to have offered.

 

“I don’t mind, s’not that cold,” Dean protested and Cas grinned at him.

 

“Then me waiting with you shouldn’t be a problem. Now, tell me about this gorgeous car?”

 

Dean smiled a little wistfully. “This is Baby. She’s my pride and joy. She was my mom’s and when she died, dad couldn’t bring himself to drive her anymore, but he wouldn’t sell her either, so she became mine.”

 

Castiel pressed a hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss Dean. It’s lovely that you have something you both loved so much to remember her by.”

 

“Thanks, Professor, it was a long time ago.”

 

“Dean, we’re outside of class, and you’re about to drive me home. You can call me Cas.”

 

Dean felt his cheeks flush at the bold way Castiel was looking at him.  He was saved from responding when Jack arrived. Jack was a bright kid with a kind soul who definitely stepped to the beat of his own drum.

 

“Hey, Dean,” Jack said and gave a nod to Castiel. He had a smile on his face and the last of a candy bar in his hand.

 

“Hi Jack,” Dean said, “ This is Professor Novak, his truck is going to my house,” he said as he opened up the Impala and took the remote he kept in the visor out and handed it to Jack. “Open the garage and just back her in for me, ” Dean’s home garage was outfitted nearly as well as the shop.

 

“You got it.”

 

Dean sent Jack off with a friendly clap on his shoulder, then urged Castiel to get in the car. He couldn’t help but grin as Castiel stroked a hand across the hood gently before slipping inside. He liked it when people showed Baby proper respect.

 

Dean started the engine and cranked up the heat to take the chill out of the air.  Zeppelin blared from the speakers and Dean looked at Castiel sheepishly as he turned it down.

 

“Your blush might be the actual death of me,” Castiel said and Dean made a strangled kind of sound in surprise to which Cas only laughed. “I’m going to be frank with you Dean,” Castiel’s tone had Dean turning to look at him as they stopped at a red light.  He smelled of spiced chai and mint and Dean struggled to focus as the inappropriate image of burying his face in his professor’s neck and just _breathing him in_ , invaded his mind.

 

“I find you fascinating and I want to get to know you better,” Cas tugged at his earlobe absently as he cocked his head, “Actually, what I really want is to date you, and hold your hand, and kiss you goodnight, but that can’t happen until the term is over.”

 

Dean could only imagine the incredulous look on his face as he studied Castiel, baffled. “Why?” he choked out.

 

Castiel gave him a narrowed look, kohl-lined eyes awash with what could only be sorrow.

 

_Beep!_

 

Dean was jolted out of their staring contest by the honking of an impatient Prius behind them and quickly started moving.

 

“It saddens me that you would ask that,” Castiel’s voice rasped softly, “but nevertheless, it’s true. I wish nothing more than to know who you are, Dean Winchester,” his lip curled up in a playful half-smile. “Before we go climb some trees.”

 

A disbelieving laugh bubbled up and out of Dean, as he was not sure what to say and honestly kind of stunned.  He wasn’t naive, Dean knew he was attractive. He’d been called some variation of pretty most of his life. It got to the point where the words sort of lost their meaning when it was the most common compliment you received. But Castiel had said nothing about his looks, and God, was that a breath of fresh air.  It also made him nervous as fuck; like he needed another reason to fumble in front of this beautiful, intriguing man.

 

Castiel seemed happy to let Dean stew on the information for the rest of the drive, which wasn’t long. Five short minutes later had Dean pulling into the parking lot of Cas’ apartment complex. Castiel laid a brief hand on Dean’s knee, appearing nervous for the first time as he played with his tongue ring. Dean tried not to stare at his pink tongue as he caught the muscle between his teeth, clicking the silver metal against them.

 

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. If pursuing something with me is not something you are open to, I promise it will have no effect on how I treat you in class or grade you-”

 

“I wasn’t worried about that. I just… I just don’t know what it is about _me,_ that would make you… I mean, I’m sure you have plenty of people lining up to be noticed by you.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes. The ones who think I’ll give them an easy A, or the ones who want to shock their friends and families, and let's not forget the ones who think I do blood sacrifice and sex rituals and want to explore their _darker_ _sides.”_

 

Dean winced at the bitter-tinge to Castiel's voice. It saddened him to know that Castiel had to deal with that just because of how he looked. People were idiots. “Sure, that may be true of some, but come on, man. You’re smart and gorgeous.  You care about your students. You’re kind to those in need. Yeah,” Dean said with a nod of his head as Castiel looked at him in question, “Charlie told me how you volunteer at the hospital and help out at the soup kitchen on 4th, you freaking saint. There’s no way someone like you is only flypaper for freaks,” Dean said knowingly and Castiel shrugged, though a hint of a smile at Dean's words was beginning to show.

 

“Perhaps. But I haven’t noticed anyone. Not in a long time. Not until you,” he said firmly in his gravel-laced voice and Dean swallowed hard. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. When you’re finished with my truck. I’ll drive you home afterward.”

 

Dean found himself laughing. “That sounds suspiciously like a date,” he chastised lightly and Castiel grinned.

 

“Let’s call it a thank you. No untoward touches, just conversation, and longing looks,” Castiel teased and Dean chuckled again.

 

“Sounds very Jane Austen,” Dean replied with a grin. “Alright. I will join you for a thank you dinner, and I will provide the _you’re_ _welcome_ pie.”

 

Castiel’s cobalt gaze lit on his green, banked fires simmering in their depths. “I look forward to it. Good afternoon, Dean.”

 

“Bye Pro-bye, Cas,” Dean amended at his teacher's darkly arched brow. He waited for Castiel to safely enter his building before pulling out, heart still beating a tattoo in his chest at the days turn of events. With a euphoric smile, Dean headed for the grocery store. He had ingredients to buy for his platonic-non-date-thank you-dinner pie.

* * *

 

 

“Oh my God. Where did you learn to cook like this?” The blissed-out expression on Dean’s face as he took another large bite of Castiel’s specialty bacon ranch burger was having a highly inappropriate effect on him.

Cas had used his contact information from class to text message Dean when he had realized they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. After calling at 4 pm to let Castiel know his truck was fixed and that his famous apple pie was in the oven, Dean had shown up with shower-damp hair at five-o’clock smelling devine; like sandalwood and fresh cut grass. He wore a hunter green sweater and worn jeans that hugged his ass beautifully and Castiel wished they were already at the point where he could wrap Dean up in his arms and just breathe him in.

 

Dean had been nervous when he’d first shown up, he could tell,  eyes dancing around as though not knowing where to settle. Castiel handed Dean a beer to relax him and showed him around the apartment. It was a small two bedroom, with a decent sized kitchen and bathroom.  The second bedroom he’d set up as an office, but the truth was the majority of the time he found himself grading papers on the coffee table in front of the television, which was where they were currently eating dinner.  The travel channel played quietly in the background, running a block of old _Destination_ _Truth_ episodes.

 

Cas picked up his Sam Adams and took a swig to cool his parched throat and Dean hummed again in appreciation for his meal. “I spent a lot of the time in the kitchen when I was a kid. My father was kind of… absent, I guess? When were kids.”

 

“We?”

 

“Yes, me and my three brothers.”

 

“Damn! That sounds crowded,” Dean said, grabbing a napkin to wipe off a glob of mayo that had dripped onto his wrist.

 

“You’d think so,” Castiel said dryly. “But the truth is we were all kind of loners in our own way. My mom died when I was six and my father kind of checked out. He still worked, still was home every night, but it was always kind of like going through the motions. He had a hard time spending time with us. Holidays were especially hard. After she died, they were always spent in some tropical or historical locale where we’d all be too busy swimming or exploring the sites to spend time together.  My mom was the love of his life and we all really favor her, except my oldest brother, Gabriel. We had a nanny and a cook, and they were the ones we went to for advice or affection as kids. “

 

Dean looked at him with understanding in his moss green eyes. “Yeah, I get that. My mom died when I was fourteen, completely unexpected, from an aneurysm. And my dad, well. He was fucked up for a long time. Started drinking, missing work. He, uh, had a hard time looking at me because I look so much like my mom, and as a kid, I felt guilty for that.”

 

Castiel gestured to himself. “ It was the same for me and my brothers, though I was the only one who went to these extremes. I remember just thinking that just maybe if I could change my outside appearance, it wouldn’t be so hard for my father to love me,” Castiel said, then shuddered. “God, I’m sorry. That’s probably a little heavy for a _not a date, thank you, dinner_ , huh?”

 

But Dean was already protesting. “Not at all. It’s hard to find people who get it. It’s like, unless you live it, you don’t know. Losing a parent, the effects afterward. My dad would just sit in his recliner pouring over photo albums, drinking until he passed out. I wound up working two jobs while going to school just to make sure we had food in the house and the mortgage paid because there was never any guarantee that my dad would be pulling in a check, he got fired so often for being drunk on the job. My mom didn’t have life insurance, it wasn’t something they thought to do with her being so young. There was a lot of mac and cheese and ramen for dinner over at the Winchester house, lemme tell ya.”

 

“You worked two jobs and went to school when you were a teenager and still managed to graduate?” Castiel asked, both impressed at his determination and saddened that Dean’s childhood was such a struggle.

 

“Yeah, well, I barely passed, honestly. If it weren’t for Ellen- she owns Harvelle’s Diner where I worked nights- and Bobby, I’m sure I wouldn’t have made it. I remember El used to make me park my ass in a booth in the back on my breaks to do homework and she would bring me burgers and fries on the house. They had nothing on this one though,” Dean said with a grin before taking another generous bite and Castiel felt another wave of affection wash over him.

 

“She sounds like a very kind woman,” Castiel commented and Dean nodded.

 

“She’s the best. She coulda reported my dad, which I know, she would have been in the right to do so, but she knew how scared I was that Sammy and I-Sam’s my little brother, he’s a big shot attorney out in California,” Dean said and Castiel could hear the pride ringing in his voice. “ She knew I was afraid we’d get separated in foster care. There were no relatives to take us in, you know? So she kept her mouth shut and I worked and took care of Sam. The genius got a full ride to Stanford which was awesome because I was able to use all the money I had saved for his schooling and pay-off most of the house.”

 

“That’s remarkable, Dean, truly.”

 

Dean blushed prettily and Cas had the urge to kiss his warm cheeks; instead, he bit into his own burger to distract himself.

 

“Thanks,” Dean said gruffly. “It was nice to go down to just one job, that’s for sure. I’d been working at the shop on the weekends and switched over to full-time and dropped the diner job, and worked as a mechanic until the mortgage was paid. At that point, Dad was finally doing better. Started going to AA. Signed the house over to me since I had been the one keeping a roof over his head.”

 

“And is he still going to AA?”

 

“Yeah, there were a few starts and stops at the beginning, but he’s got about five years of sobriety under his belt now and a wife named Kate. They moved out to California to be closer to Sammy. Plus, I think he just needed to be somewhere that wasn’t a constant reminder of my mom. Hey, what is your mom’s name?” Dean asked him and Castiel appreciated how he didn’t say _was_ but _is_ , because to Castiel she was still very much alive in his heart.

 

“Her name is Hannah,” Cas said softly.

 

Dean raised his bottle. “To Hannah and Mary,” he said quietly.

 

“To Hannah and Mary,” Castiel repeated soberly and tapped his bottle to Dean’s.

 

They decided to wait on the pie since Dean said he felt like he was in a cheeseburger coma, and talk turned to lighter things. Favorite music-classic rock for Dean, folk and alt-rock for Castiel. They spoke of their favorite books, television shows, and movies. Castiel told him about his brief foray into beekeeping when he worked summers at Meadow Sweet farms, and how he once got propositioned by woman in Atlantic City and didn’t realize she was a prostitute until his brother Gabriel dragged him away and explained how girls who looked like an ex-rated version of Tyra Banks didn’t fall in love with eighteen-year-old goth kids with acne for free.  When Dean cracked up at that, head tossed back and eyes shining, it nearly stole Cas’ breath. He wanted to see that expression on Dean’s face every day.

 

Dean told him how he started LARPing because after the last Harry Potter book came out, he was depressed and Castiel told Dean how he took Cosmo as an elective in high school that helped him perfect his winged liner and build his self-esteem.

 

Dean smiled at him brightly, “So worth it, you look gorgeous,” he said bluntly and Castiel laughed.

 

“Thank you, Dean.  So, your love for books, is that what made you switch from Mechanic to Librarian?” he asked curiously and only grew more curious when Dean rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that Castiel had grown used to over the past three months.

 

“It’s part of it. I actually… man, I’ve never told anyone this besides Sammy and Charlie.”

 

Castiel placed his hand over Dean’s, the warm skin of his hand pressed against his own making his skin tingle. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Dean.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” he blew out a soft breath as though gearing up to speak. “I want to be a writer. Of fantasy novels. I’ve been writing short stories and things since I was a kid and I wanted a job that would allow me to be focused on that, and kind of, I don’t know, immerse myself in my inspirations, if that makes any sense?”

 

“It does,” Castiel reassured him.

 

“Charlie actually suggested I take your class because she thought it might help inspire me. I’d, uh, been working on this one series off and on since I was about sixteen, and I’ve just picked it up again,” Dean said thoughtfully.

 

“ Have you thought about trying to get them published?”

 

Dean laughed. “I think about it all of the time. But it’s like, once you take that step, there’s no going back. Someone with the power to crush my dreams is gonna read it and if they tear it apart or tell me I’m kidding myself, I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from that. I don’t know if I’m ready to let go of the dream, yet, you know?”

 

“But what if they read it and love it? You’re letting your fear keep you in stasis. What if you’re the next J.K. Rowling?”

 

“What if I’m the next E.L. James,” Dean countered with a lifted brow and Castiel laughed.

 

“I’ve read your classwork, I’m sure we won’t have to worry about that. Can you tell me what your series is about?”

 

“Can I tell you over pie?” Dean asked with a charming grin that made Castiel’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

****

 

It was Castiel’s turn to moan when he scooped up a spoonful of Dean’s apple pie with a vanilla bean ice cream and took a bite. The flavor of cinnamon, caramel, and apples exploded on his tongue, the ice cream a cool and perfect accompaniment to the deliciously tart treat.

 

“Dean, this is amazing,” Castiel said and was elated to see his response had much the same effect on Dean as his enthusiastic appreciation of his burgers had on Castiel.

 

“Thanks, it’s my mom’s recipe. She couldn’t boil water, but she could bake a hell of a pie,” Dean said with affection.

 

“I’m requesting that you bake a pie for every time we have a dinner date,” Castiel said smartly and Dean chuckled.

 

“But this isn’t a dinner date,” Dean teased and Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“For now,” he said loftily. “Now stop distracting me. What is your series about?”

 

“Alright, alright,” Dean said around a bite of pie. “I call it _Supernatural._ It’s about these two brothers that travel all over the world fighting demons and monsters. It’s kinda modeled after me and Sammy. Devon and Sean,” he said with a quick grin. “I used to make up these stories when I was a kid and tell’em to Sam, and as I got older, I started writing them down bit by bit. “ Dean said and Castiel could read between the lines that this was something that started as a comfort technique from an older brother to a younger sibling.

 

“Someday, when you trust me enough, I’d like to read them,” Castiel said earnestly and when Dean’s eyes lit up, flecks of gold sparkling, he felt warm all over.

 

“I’d like that, too, Cas.”

 

**\- April**

 

It didn’t take long for non-date dinners to become a frequent occurrence. Each time it was a little harder not to let touch linger; a clap on the shoulder turning into hand grazing the length of an arm, a quick handshake to a prolonged tangle of fingers.

 

After a close call when a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek became a reverent scattering of kisses along a stubbled jawline, they decided it was better to do these meetings in public or with mutual company.

* * *

 

“Holy sexual tension, Batman!” Dean rolled his eyes at Charlie as she slapped him on the arm.

“It’s not that bad,” Dean protested. But it was. It _really_ was.

 

They were sat at The Roadhouse, a popular bar and Castiel was getting drinks for the three of them. There was a steady hum of activity, as waitresses bustled through, clearing the tables that would be moved back to make room on the dance floor. Live music started at ten o’clock and Dean’s friend Rob and his band were playing.

 

Cas had shown up looking sexy as sin underneath his trademark trenchcoat, and sporting, _God help him_ , a new lip ring. A little silver hoop that Dean was aching to feel against his own lips. He wore his combat boots, blue jeans, and a plain black tee-shirt that hugged his biceps and showed off more of the tattooed poetry etched along Castiel’s arms.

 

One line had struck him immediately and he hadn’t been able to resist tracing the lettering with his fingers. _There is a place in the heart that will never be filled and we will wait and wait in that space._ Charles Bukowski. He knew the line well. It always made him think of his mother, which was why Dean had not been able to resist tracing the lettering with his fingers, knowing these words were no doubt for Cas’ mother Hannah. Dean had squeezed his arm and given him a soft smile of understanding. Castiel, gifting him one back in return, turned his palm over, inviting Dean to entwine their fingers. Dean had marveled at the look of Cas’ black polish against his skin, imagining those his hands on other parts of his body as well. Their eyes had met and Castiel groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Dean’s and murmured “ _four more weeks,_ ”  before he’d declared the next round on him.

 

Dean watched as eyes, male and female, followed Castiel as he casually leaned against the bar waiting for his turn to order. He didn’t enjoy the twist of jealousy in his stomach when a leggy redhead approached Castiel, touching his forearm and moved into his space. He forced himself to turn away, not wanting to see if Castiel was getting bored with waiting to be able to date him.

 

“I don’t understand why you two are waiting,” Charlie said as she scooped up some salsa with a chip.

 

“Cas doesn’t date his students.”

 

“But it’s not like Cas’ll get fired.”

 

“Maybe not, but it’s still kind of a gray area. And honestly, I don’t mind waiting. The anticipation is very hot,” he admitted, laughing when Charlie lifted her hand for a high five.

 

“I can see that. And obviously, it’s not like either of you are looking at anyone else. He just sent some _muy_ _caliente_ redhead packing in, like, thirty seconds,” Charlie said, with an envious sigh.

 

Dean whipped around, unable to suppress the grin that stole across his face as he saw Castiel was once again alone at the bar. “You could go try and cheer her up,” he said with a laugh.

 

“Sadly, she isn’t tripping my gaydar,” Dean laughed and finished off his Yuengling just in time for Cas to carefully place another along with a shot of whiskey in front of him and Charlie.

 

“Who are we talking about?” Castiel asked as he slid into the booth next to Dean, the warmth of his thigh pressing into Dean’s a welcoming heat.

 

“That hot girl who was trying to get into your pants,” Charlie said with a laugh, even as Dean scowled. Cutting through the smell of alcohol and fried appetizers came Cas’ spiced chai and mint scent as he moved closer and Dean leaned into it, unable to help himself from taking a not so subtle sniff, nosing along Castiel’s neck and up alongside his earlobe.

 

“Sorry,” Dean whispered in his ear when a light tremor went through his professor’s body. “You smell good,” he said, a blush climbing his cheeks, but not embarrassed enough to stop. “Where the fuck do you buy your cologne?”

 

Castiel let out a bark of laughter, nose scrunching adorably. “It’s not cologne, it’s soap and I make it,” he said and Dean just goggled at him.

 

“You make your own soap?”

 

Castiel grabbed a loaded tortilla chip from the plate of nachos they were sharing and winked. “I’m good with my hands.”

 

Looking down at the long, graceful digits and their black, glossy sheen, Dean didn’t doubt it for a second.

 

The house lights dimmed further as the stage lights came on signaling the band was ready to play.

 

“Good evening, lovely people,” Rob called out to the crowd. “We’re Louden Swain and we are happy to be at our favorite local haunt tonight,” he paused to allow for cheers. “Let’s get things started with a little _Eskimo_.”

 

Charlie stood up, “C’mon, I feel like dancing,” she said, dragging Dean’s hands as she tied to pull him from the table. He allowed himself to be pulled and raised a questioning brow at Castiel.

 

“Yeah, no. I am much better at sitting in silent judgment then attempting to pretend my body has rhythm. Dance rhythm,” he amended with an eye roll as Dean smirked at him.

 

“I guess we’ll see in a few weeks,” Dean teased, the liquor making him braver than he’d normally be with Cas.

 

Dean and Charlie lost themselves on the dance floor, dancing with each other and others who gravitated towards them. Dean saw Lisa Braeden side-eying him from across the room. They’d had a brief, bendy fling a few years back that never went anywhere. She was halfway across the dance floor to him when Dean felt another body mold itself to his back. He had a split second to be startled before he leaned back against a firm chest, letting his head loll back so he could nose Cas’ Adam's apple.

 

“I thought you didn’t dance?” Dean remarked over the music, allowing Castiel to grip his hips and tug him to his front, gyrating in sinuous circles. “And I see you lied about the rhythm thing,” he teased and was rewarded with a dark chuckle as Cas’ stubbled cheek brushed against Dean’s.

 

“That was before I got to watch what a stir you cause in the crowd,” Cas murmured into his ear. “That gentleman over there who has been eyeing you up and down,” Cas turned him towards the bar where a tall blonde man in a day suit was leering at him. “That pretty brunette who was slinking her way towards you,” he said and Dean huffed out a laugh.

 

“Lisa and I were over a long time ago,” Dean said and felt Castiel’s fingers press into his hip bones a little harder than necessary before relaxing.

 

“And now she knows it,” Castiel growled as they continued to move against each other.

 

Dean turned in Castiel’s arms, crowding into his space and winding his arms around his neck. Dean searched deep ocean eyes lined in black as his chest pressed against Cas’, bodies aligned so tight that there wasn’t a space between them.

 

“You know, Charlie thinks it’s stupid we’re waiting,” Dean remarked, lips a hairsbreadth apart, so tempted to sweep his tongue across Castiel’s full, bottom lip. ‘Do you think she’s right?”

 

Castiel pressed his forehead to Dean’s, closing his gorgeous blues and sighed. He opened them again and studied Dean, intently. “I think that it’s been a long time since I really got to know someone. Since I’ve met someone who… who matters. And God, yes, do I want to get my hands on you, my mouth...I want all of that. But I am enjoying this part, too. The excitement of waiting, being on edge, knowing all I have to do is lean just a little closer…” Cas lips _just_ grazed Dean’s before he pulled back. Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding and laughed. “I think waiting will just make things even that more _explosive_ when we finally do give in.”

 

Dean found himself smiling, glad they were on the same page. “I do, too,” he said, bringing his thumbs up to rub at Cas’ cheekbones lightly, just sweeping under his lined eyes and sighing for how utterly breathtaking he was.

 

“Dean Winchester, I know you’re in the house tonight. Come on up here!”

 

The sound of Rob calling his name intruded upon his and Cas’ bubble. Dean ran his hands down Castiel’s strong arms, down to his palms, squeezing them briefly before making his way to the stage. He hopped on up and took the microphone from his friend’s waiting hand. Dean saw Castiel head back to their table where Charlie was already waiting with a smile and some drinks.

 

“Who’s ready for a little Kansas?” Dean asked as the crowd erupted. And if he gazed at Castiel the entire time he sang, that was okay. Because Castiel was gazing right back.

 

*****

 

Castiel tapped the book in his hand. “So. _Sabriel_. What did we think?”

There was an unintelligible murmur throughout the room.

 

“It was decent. I had to read it twice though,” Dean said after raising his hand and receiving Cas’ nod to go ahead.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Aaron said. “It was like go, go, go the whole time.”

 

“Yes,” Dean nodded in agreement. “It was like there was no downtime. Not really descriptive, image-wise, so there was no time to just kind of think about what just happened. I read it again just because I felt like I missed things.”

 

Castiel perched on the edge of his desk. “You’re not wrong. There is a lot of movement with this book. The author knows he has an action-packed story to tell and doesn’t waste time with descriptions of every flower they come across or what anyone ate for dinner. Did you find it took away from the story?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Not really. I was just kind of immediately invested in the main character. She felt real to me, which made everything else seem that way too.”

 

“There was no shock and amazement when magic was used, it just _was_ ,” Aaron piped up again and Dean shot him the finger gun in agreement.

 

“Right? It was just natural which for me, made it more believable,” Dean added.

 

“I missed the descriptions,” Becky chimed in. “And it ended so abruptly. I mean, I am glad it was only temporary MCD, but-”

 

“Temporary what?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed in confusion and Dean huffed out a laugh.

 

“Temporary MCD,” Becky said again, the _duh_ obvious in her tone and Dean grinned at Cas’ _what the fuck?_ expression.

 

Dean raised his hand. “It means temporary character death. It’s a tag in fanfiction.”

 

“A tag?” Castiel sounded even more lost.

“This can get really involved, Ca-Professor Novak,” Dean’s eyes widened at his own stumble but Cas only seemed amused.

 

“I’ll email you a link to Ao3, Professor Novak,” Becky said brightly, “and Dean, I want to know all about how you know about this stuff,” She beamed at him, and asked with excitement, “Who’s your ship?”

 

Dean coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck and was extremely grateful when Cas steered the topic back to the book.

 

*****

At the end of class, Dean attempted to straggle behind to talk to Castiel alone, Unfortunately, Becky refused to leave until Dean confessed his secret love for Malec fanfiction and that his pen name was _ACKImpala67._

 

However, Becky wasn’t the only one who had stayed behind. Dean was surprised to see Aaron Bass make his way over to where Dean was stalling.  Aaron was one of the older students in the class, probably about thirty, and Dean had found he had often agreed with many of the observations Aaron had had in class over the semester.

 

“Hey, Dean,” Aaron said and Dean was surprised to hear him sounding a little... _nervous_?

 

“Aaron, what’s up, man?” Dean caught Castiel pretending to not notice them as he gathered his things together and slowly placed them in his briefcase.

 

“Nothing. Nothing much, I mean. I just, um. I just wanted to know if you were free? For dinner?”

 

Dean opened his mouth, but no sound came out due to his surprise. It didn’t matter anyway though, because Aaron continued.

 

“I just thought, well. That is to say, I felt this connection to you. All semester, And we only have one week left until the final, so when would I get another chance to-”

 

“Mr. Bass. Mr. Winchester,” Castiel’s voice rang out sharply. “ I hate to disrupt your plans for romance, but another professor needs this room now. Take it outside.”

 

“Sorry, Professor Novak,” Aaron said, turning to head out the door. “Are you coming, Dean?”

 

“I can’t tonight, man, I’m sorry,” Dean said it softly, not wanting to hurt Aaron’s feelings. “ I have an argument scheduled with my boyfriend,” he said gently, hearing Cas’ breath hitch.

 

Dean waited until Aaron nodded sheepishly and left the room before he turned around and faced Cas. Their gazes locked, an intimate staring contest where eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea fought like hell to remain a stoic mask. But Dean saw right through that facade and was having none of it.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean finally asked.

 

“What was what?” Castiel asked with an arched brow, catching his tongue ring in his teeth and trying to affect a disinterested expression.

 

“ _I hate to disrupt your plans for romance,”_ Dean mimicked dryly. “ 'the hell was that?”

 

Dean watched as Cas drew his armor up. “I’m not your keeper, Dean. I have no control over who you see,” Castiel said loftily.

“Why are you acting like this? You know I’m not interested in anyone but you. What’s the matter?" It took him a second. "Oh, wait. I get it. You’re freaking out,” Dean laughed. “I thought for sure it would have been me,” Dean said with a wry shake of his head. Dean leveled his steady gaze on Cas’, held it for a beat, then two more.  He reached out his hand to Cas. “Take a ride with me,” he said, holding his breath until Castiel laced their fingers together.

 

“Where are we going?” Castiel’s voice was sullen, hushed, and Dean wanted to wrap him in his arms and promise everything was going to be fine.

 

“Just trust me.”  
  
**Chapter 5- May**

 

Castiel _was_ freaking out. Why? What was wrong with him? He wanted this. He’d been waiting _months_ to officially call Dean his.

 

_“Just trust me,”_ Dean’s voice echoed in his head as he stared into those green and gold-flecked eyes. Eyes which were showing him nothing but warmth and kindness and dare he even say it to himself: _love_.

 

They didn’t speak as they got in the car. Led Zeppelin played low on the radio and Castiel watched as Dean’s fingers drummed a beat on the steering wheel. Cas jerked his head in surprise as Dean pulled his phone from where he’d placed it in the cup holder. He handed it to Cas who took it reflexively.

 

“Six in my contacts. Order our usuals, please,”

 

Castiel scrolled through, noting that he had bumped Charlie out of her spot as he was now next after Sam. He didn’t know why that made him choke up a bit, so he cleared his throat and found the number to _The Royal Garden._ He ordered them two luncheon specials and a side of Egg Rolls for himself and crab rangoon for Dean. After placing the call, he stared at Dean’s profile, heart aching just a little bit.

 

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. We’ll talk. But I’m starving, food first.”

 

Dean was a calming presence, and Castiel felt himself relaxing. He actually felt quite foolish for his behavior. He’d never been one to be passive aggressive or to start petty arguments. He knew Dean would have turned Aaron down. He _knew_ it. Yet, still. He’d snarked and turned icy anyway. _Why_?

 

Dean reached over and took his hand, spreading his fingers until Castiel linked them together. They drove around to the pick-up and soon the smell of spicy kung-pao chicken and beef lo-mein filled the car, making his stomach growl. When they arrived at Dean’s house, Cas followed Dean inside without a word. It wasn’t his first time. He’d been to two poker nights in Dean’s home, as well as a few movie marathons with Charlie in attendance.

 

He had never been with Dean completely alone in his home, though, and Cas found his nerves starting to kick up at the impending conversation. Dean appeared to be in no real hurry, however, as he went to the kitchen for napkins and forks and two bottles of _Angry_ _Orchard_. Castiel followed Dean over to his brown leather sectional where all of the food was already waiting for them on the coffee table.

 

“You called me your boyfriend,” Cas blurted out, suddenly and saw Dean’s Adam’s apple bob as he choked on his cider, and then he laughed.

 

“You are my boyfriend, Cas. Pretending we aren’t is ridiculous. Acting like nothing is really official because we haven’t had sex yet…” Dean shook his head. “You _are_ my boyfriend, Cas” Dean repeated earnestly.  “Whether we wait until the end of the semester to tell everyone or not, doesn’t change anything,” Dean laughed. “I’m just so surprised that I’m the one that’s calm about it.”

 

“I’m glad my uncommon panic is amusing to you,” he said, biting viciously into his egg roll.

 

“Don’t be bitchy,” Dean said and Castiel couldn’t help but to snort in amusement. “I just mean, for a long time I kept wondering why you’re into me. I’m hot, obviously,” he said it with a wink designed to make Castiel laugh and it did. “But I’m not anything special. I work a nine to five, I never went to a big-name college, hell, the closest I have ever been to traveling the world was catching a U2 concert in Vancouver.

 

“Dean, none of that... that’s not why I… I like you,” he fumbled over the words, like not strong enough, but too early for the other.  

 

“I know,” Dean said but Castiel was insistent, taking Dean’s hands in his own. He gathered his thoughts before speaking.

 

“You are kind and giving and smart. You’re a gifted writer whom I would love to see published someday. You’re a wonderful listener and you understand me in a way that few, if any, ever have. You sparked something in me and getting to know you has been a blessing. You have no reason to ever wonder why I’m _‘into_ _you’_ ” He air quoted and Dean laughed.

 

“You’re a dork. And thank you, for all of that. It’s always been hard for me to take compliments or accept praise, but I can tell you mean it, and honestly? I’ve stopped questioning it. No, this is about you, “ Dean pointed his fork at him, sweet and sour chicken in serious danger of falling off of the tines and onto the floor. “Where is the flirtatious, dominant fucker who had no qualms about practically claiming me on the dance floor? The man who so blatantly told me he wanted me?”

 

“I do! I do, want you, Dean,” Castiel said, passionately.

“You once said to me that you attracted certain types of people, but never ones who stuck around and bothered to get to know the real you,” Dean said and Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat.

 

_Dean had_. Dean had eagerly taken the time to get to know him, enjoying the delicious tease of what was to come.

 

“Semester’s almost over. The semester is almost over and we become real,” Dean pressed on and that was the crux and Cas’ eyes widened at his observation. “And now part of you is wondering if I’m going to bolt. What if this has been all about the chase, what if I have been living out this student teacher fantasy and now that I get to have you, do I really want to keep you? Am I getting close, here?”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and blew out a soft breath. He was so right. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be conditioned to wonder. He’d been caustic in his remarks to Aaron and Dean, and that small, insecure space inside of him waited for him to take the out, to follow Aaron out of the classroom door.

 

“I didn’t realize I was testing you until after I’d done it,” Castiel admitted quietly, but meeting Dean’s gentle stare head-on.  “I hadn’t been aware that it was still in me, this doubt until I heard Aaron asking you out and I…”

 

“You went on the offense.”

 

“I did. But I do want this, Dean. There is nothing I want more,” Castiel implored, needing Dean to understand him and give him another chance.

 

“Well, that’s good, because the only person I see myself with for the foreseeable future, is you, professor. In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” Dean leaned in, leaf green eyes sparkling with humor and something _more_ “I’m in love with you,” It was said simply and Castiel could only take so much.

 

Cas straddled Dean’s thighs and cupped Dean’s face, feeling the bristles from the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow and reveling in the scent of sandalwood and green, green grass.

 

“I love you, too,” Castiel breathed out before finally, _finally_ , claiming Dean’s mouth with his own.

 

**\- May**

 

Dean was awash in sensation. Castiel’s body, was a welcome, warm weight in his lap as he effortlessly took Dean apart with his mouth. The cool press of metal from his lip ring combined with the heat of his pierced tongue had muted whimpers escaping his lips.

 

Dean’s nails scratched up Cas’ broad back, gripping at his strong shoulders as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.  He tasted of apples and duck sauce and it was sweet and addictive. Castiel kissed like he was born for it, every undulation of his tongue a seductive dance.

 

Dean let his fingers drift into Cas’ messy locks, tugging softly, but hard enough for him to hum into Dean’s mouth in pleasure. Castiel rolled his hips in a slow, rocking motion that Dean found himself meeting, before breaking away to catch his breath. He gave a huff that was half a  laugh and half a moan as Castiel’s lips skated down his neck in open mouthed kisses, settling in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking wetly, the feeling of his velvet tongue going straight to his dick.

 

“I thought you wanted to wait until May,” Dean groaned out playfully.

 

“Fuck, May,” Castiel growled against his skin, crimson painted nails teasing up his sides and pulling at the hem of Dean’s gray henley. Taking the hint, Dean stripped the shirt off of himself, blushing when Cas’ eyes fired at the sight of the flaming pentagram tattoo on his chest.

 

“It’s, uh, for protection,” Dean said a little sheepishly.  

 

“It’s hot,” Castiel said and Dean laughed,  head falling forward, face finding the warm skin of Castiel neck and nosing at him until he tipped it back to provide Dean with access. Spiced chai and mint dazzled his senses as did the salty taste of Cas skin. Dean urged Castiel to remove his sweater as well, whimpering at the sight of tanned skin and dusky nipples begging for his mouth.  When Dean leaned in to circle one stiffening peak with his tongue, Castiel let out a sound that Dean wanted to hear again, all punched out and needy. He made sure to give the other nub the same attention, sucking at a dark freckle that called to Dean like a siren. The tightness of his jeans pressing against his rapidly filling cock was beginning to make itself known as their movements together became jerkier and more frantic. Dean lost his breath when in a quick movement, Castiel had shifted, and he found himself underneath the professor on the couch.

 

“Is this okay?” Castiel asked, kohl-lined eyes shining with want and need that Dean knew his own echoed.

 

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean murmured, fisting his hand in Cas’ hair and tugging him back down for more drugging kisses. His other hand drifted down to the edge of his jeans, hand dipping in to grip at the firm muscle of Cas’ ass.

 

Cas moved like a fire above him, mouth trailing sparks against Dean’s skin as his lips and tongue trailed down, the wet patches of skin cooling in the air as he traveled lower. Castiel made quick work of Dean’s belt, pulling it free with a _whoosh_ of sound. Dean got with the program quickly, lifting his hips to allow the material to be pulled down his legs, becoming tangled at his ankles. He toed of his sneakers with a laugh, then kicked off his pants as Castiel took the opportunity to strip himself before kneeling back between Dean’s legs. He bent his right one against the back of the couch and let the other touch the floor, foot planted against the hardwood and making ample room for Cas to settle in between his splayed thighs.

 

At the first brush of Cas’ bare, dripping cock against his own had twin moans erupting from their mouths.  Castiel’s gorgeous forearms bracketed Dean’s head as they came together again in a plundering kiss. Dean’s hands skated down Cas’ back, down to the dip of his spine before molding the firm globes of his cheeks.  Castiel’s head fell forward, brow resting against Dean’s rapidly moving chest as he let out aborted grunts of satisfaction.

 

“I want to make love to you, Dean, I wanna, but- _ah fuck_ -” Castiel gritted out as a particularly well-aimed thrust had the head of his cock catching on Dean’s deliciously and he pushed into it, thighs trembling and fingers digging into Cas’ hips. “I don’t think I can last long enough to open you up the way I want to.”

 

Castiel’s blunt words had him groaning and dragging his mouth back to his.

“S’okay,” Dean murmured against his lips breathlessly. “Next time, next time. Like this, now,” Dean said, reaching between them to swipe his palm over their copiously leaking heads. Castiel keened at the movement and thrust again as Dean wrapped his large hand around their hot, hard lengths and began to stroke them together. Their hips moved together, finding a rhythm that left the only sounds in the room wet skin on skin and guttural moans of bliss as they continued to rock.

 

Dean knew they should have used lube, but the amount of precome and the pure need surging through him made the friction just on that edge of pleasure-pain, and if the euphoric look on Castiel’s face as he writhed above him told him anything, it was that the professor was right there with him.

 

Castiel adjusted himself, bracing his body up on one forearm as his other snaked between them, so he could lace his fingers with Dean’s, making an even tighter channel for them to fuck into. Dean’s hips arched up repeatedly, foot pushing into the floor as leverage. They were nothing but a mess of whimpers and pants and growled out _unh-unh-unh’s_ as they chased their release.  Dean felt his ball drawing up tighter as he watched Cas _watch_ them, the slick heads of their cocks sliding in and out of their laced fist. His blue eyes  were nearly black with arousal as he chewed at his bottom lip.

 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Cas grit out and the utterly wrecked tone of his voice, like broken glass and liquid smoke, was all it took to have Dean coming. His release, sticky and white, burst from the head of his dick, making the slide even slicker and Castiel gave a choked off groan as he spilled his seed seconds later, both of them continuing to stroke rapidly, working each other through their intense orgasms.

 

Castiel collapsed on top of Dean and hummed in satisfaction. Dean blindly reached on the floor for a shirt, coming up with his own. He wiped off their stomachs and his come covered hand clean before cleaning off Cas’, bringing his shaking knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss.

 

“Wow,” Dean finally breathed out and a wide grin broke out on his face as Castiel shook with laughter, skin hot, sweaty, and sticky against him.

 

“Just so you know, this counts as part of your final,” Castiel deadpanned.

 

“There he is,” Dean said with affection, even as he lightly smacked Cas’ firm cheeks for being a wise ass.

 

_Two years later_

 

Dean laid stretched out on his back in the reclined chair. Castiel laid next to him, head at the opposite end and their hand clasped in the space between them. Dean smiled as sunbeams pouring through the windows of the tattoo shop dappled their bodies in light, glinting off the gold of their wedding rings.

 

They were both shirtless as Dean and Castiel’s ribs were prepped. Wiped down with alcohol and the area shaved, Dean squeezed Cas’ fingers in lieu of a kiss as he sat still for the stencil transfer. They were at Castiel’s tattoo artist’s shop, none other than Castiel’s brother Emmanuel. He was soft-spoken and gentle and didn’t have an ounce of ink on him aside from the wedding ring he had etched around his finger. Emmanuel, an artist first, said he changed ideas too frequently to allow anything permanent on his body unless he knew it was forever. So far, that privilege had only been extended to his wife Pam, the woman who would be doing Dean’s tattoo today.

 

“So,” Pam started with a grin, “this is a fun anniversary present,” she said as she began the transfer.

 

“Oh, this isn’t just for our anniversary, Pam,” Castiel said from his chair. “We just found out that the first book in Dean’s series is getting published,” he bragged to his sister-in-law with such pride that Dean felt himself blushing.

 

“Congratulations, Dean,” Emmanuel said in his quiet way. “I am eager to read it. I love a good, spooky story.”

 

“He likes being cuddled after he gets freaked out,” Pam stage whispered.

 

“Lies,” Cas’ brother said serenely.

 

Dean met Castiel’s eyes as the sound of the tattoo machine hummed, and they shared a quiet look.  When the linework started, neither broke their gaze or unclasped their hands. They held on as words by J. Iron Word  were immortalized on their skin. They had each chosen a quote from the author that they thought embodied in some way, what they each meant to each other. Dean breathed through the pain as the quote that had spoken to him was inked into his skin.

 

When they were finished they stood face to face, fingers laced as they were finally allowed to admire the poetry that Cas and Dean had kept secret from each other until now.

 

_Everything you are is something I have never come across and will never see again. You are my once in a lifetime everything._

 

The words danced over Dean’s ribs in perfect calligraphy and he brushed his thumbs against Castiel’s cheekbones when tears dripped from his liquid blue eyes.

 

Dean then focused his attention on Castiel’s tattoo and felt his heart trip and stumble.

 

_You see the me no one has ever met, the me no one has ever known, the me no one has ever taken time to unravel._

 

As Dean pressed a kiss to his husband’s temple, a giddy feeling rose up in him as it often did whenever he thought of what his life had become.  Surely one person wasn’t meant to hold all of this love. A wide smile stole across his face as Castiel nuzzled into him, and breathed him in, and Dean decided that it was okay. It would never be too much as long as he had Castiel by his side  to share it with him.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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